by Tamsin Ley
Banking left she followed the river toward an area of rapids, the frothing water frozen into amazing arcs and swirls. Far below, a moose and her calf strode through knee-deep snow, nibbling the tips of branches. In the distance, the beat of a helicopter pounded the air, and Angie dropped, afraid she might be seen.
Sten’s arms caught her, bearing her gently to the powdery snow. She snuggled up against him, trying to gather some warmth. His voice rumbled through her. “I believe the others are congregating on the peak. We should get our things.”
Angie retracted her wings and Sten encircled her in his arms to fly her back to the cabin. Retrieving her parka from the ledge where she’d dropped it, she went inside and retrieved the duffel and the daypack, checking around to be sure they weren’t forgetting anything. It felt strange to be saying goodbye to a rustic cabin rather than her house. She’d shed many tears about leaving, but also felt ready to embrace a new life like her adventurous forefathers. A new life with Sten.
She shrugged into their daypack and looped the duffel over an arm, then walked from the cabin, shutting the door firmly behind her. Sten already waited on the ledge, looking out toward the peak. He put an arm around her and pulled her close. “Ready?”
She nodded.
Bunching his muscles, he launched above the trees. Across the horizon she spotted what could only be another Khargal taking to the air and heading toward the mountain’s peak. She gulped against the frigid wind as he sped toward a ledge on the mountain, tears streaming from her eyes. The higher they went, the colder it became, until her fingers were numbly clutching his neck. “How high do we need to be for the teleport?”
“This should be far enough.” Sten set her down on a rocky outcropping a short way above the tree line. The wind blew so hard, the snow couldn’t stick to the ledge, and she cringed against Sten just to keep herself from being blown off. Squinting over the curve of the earth, she caught a glimpse of yet another Khargal rising toward the mountain. The sun glittered in the fine mist of snow blowing past her, as if she was surrounded by diamonds. She put a mittened hand to her throat where the sigil hung. “How do we know they can see us? I’m a little nervous about being teleported.”
“Don’t worry, they know we are here. The teleportation can be disconcerting at first.” Sten angled one wing to shelter her from the wind. “But I will be right there with you.”
The crystals of snow grew brighter, developing an almost golden hue. A tingle spread through her limbs.
The next thing she knew, she was retching on her hands and knees. Her wings were on fire. She reared back, grappling at her shoulders, finding the straps of the daypack. Then the vomiting overtook her again, flinging her to her knees.
Several sets of clawed feet surrounded her, and someone spoke a guttural language overhead. She twisted her head to gape up at three Khargals in form-fitting blue and gray suits. Saying something she couldn’t understand, one reached a hand toward her, razor-sharp claws fully extended.
She jerked back. “Sten!” More pain lanced through her and she screamed.
And then the world went black.
When she awoke, the strangers were gone and Sten was brushing his lips against hers. “Hondassa, wake up.”
Behind him, pale curved walls gave off a sort of ambient light, and a strangely earthy scent that was both familiar and foreign assaulted her nose, making her stomach grow queasy again. Her chest felt tight, and she glanced down at her breasts to see her torso thickly encased in some sort of clear film. “Where am I?”
“In our cabin. Your wings are broken.” His brow ridges were pinched into a concerned line.
“Broken?” She tried to remember the teleportation, but that only made her stomach churn again. “How’d that happen?”
“You extended your wings when you emerged from the teleport. I should have realized that might happen. It is a common response to stress. Your daypack and parka were in the way, and during your thrashing, you snapped several bones.”
A shiver ran through her. The entire event was hazy. But she did remember one thing. “One of those other Khargals tried to slash me.”
Sten shook his head. “He was trying to cut you free of the daypack.” Touching a spot behind her ear, he said, “You now have a translation ship so you will not mistake a crewman’s words again.”
She raised her brows, following where he’d touched behind her ear. A minuscule raised bump was the only indication something was there. “You mean I don’t need to learn to speak Khargal?”
He shook his head. “Duras is home to many different species. We find the use of a translation device the most expedient way to handle language barriers.”
“Is that how you know English?”
“Unfortunately not. We had not met Earthians prior to our crash, so had to learn Earth’s various dialects the hard way. But now that several of us are fluent, all of Earth’s languages will be added to our translation database.”
“Handy.” She rolled to her side and pushed herself to sit. Her hands and legs were free, but her back and chest were encased in what felt like a flexible cast of some sort. She tried to look over her shoulder but couldn’t see. “So, are my wings going to be okay?”
“The doctor believes so. He was not comfortable enough with human physiology to administer a healing serum, so I’m afraid you’ll have to bear with the cast for a while yet.”
“My mouth tastes like crap.” She glanced around for a glass of water. The room was strangely organic, with honeycomb pockets in the walls and curves instead of corners. Definitely nothing human. The bed seemed to be almost an afterthought.
Sten leaned down and retrieved a cup with a straw. “Here.”
She sipped lightly, surprised by the lightly flavored beverage. “What is this?”
“An herbal tea my people find helpful during pregnancy.”
She finished it and handed the cup back to him. Her head felt stuffed with cotton, and the ache between her shoulder blades pulsed in time with her heartbeat, but she felt much better than she had coming off the teleport. Then what he’d said hit her. “Pregnancy. Did the doctor verify it?”
Sten took her hand and pressed a kiss into her palm, his emerald eyes soft. “Indeed. I never dreamed of being happier than this.”
Her heart melted. “I love you Sten.” As she said it, she realized that although they’d mated, she’d never spoken those words. She felt them now to the very core of her being.
“I love you, too, my Hondassa.” He lowered his face to hers and kissed her softly. “You might also be happy to know we have taken other humans on board. It seems I am not the only Khargal to have taken a human mate.”
A warmth spread through her as she realized she wasn’t going to be the only human on Duras after all.
Epilogue
Sten rubbed home-made sunscreen over his infant son’s horn buds, smiling down into the chubby, pink face. The harsh sun of Duras was not kind to some hybrid’s skin, but Angie had come up with a botanical emollient for herself and other humans who needed it. In fact, her whole garden had become a haven for Earthians who wanted a taste of their home world now and again. She’d even begun negotiations with the Khargal military to sponsor a horticultural excursion back to Earth so she could acquire more seeds.
The baby cooed and kicked, tail circling Sten’s wrist. “Hold still, William.” The human name still felt strange on his tongue. Sten wiped the rest of the sunscreen across the bridge of the fledgling’s nose. “Let us go see what your dame and your brother are doing.”
Outside the ground-level home, a lush oasis of greenery spread across the rocky ground. Angie’s water conservation techniques and her drought-resistant Earth plants had attracted a lot of attention, and she’d even been granted a waiver to double her water allotment in order to expand the gardens. She really wanted to add a water garden, but had not managed to get that approved.
He carried the baby between the leaves, keeping to the shady paths Angie had created.
Ahead, he heard little Graj chattering at his mother and Angie’s soft responses. Following the sound, he emerged on a newly tilled section of ground to find his oldest son and Hondassa crouched on either side of a tiny seedling.
Graj held a clod of soil in one hand, his tiny wings not yet functional but fluttering behind him as if trying to take off on their own. Sten smiled with pride at the youngling’s three small horns; Angie’s Khargal bloodline was strong to produce a son with more horns than his sire. William’s buds were just beginning to show, but Sten had already counted three there, as well.
Angie glanced up, smiling as Sten entered the clearing. “Graj has a green thumb just like his momma.”
“I bet.” He handed William a fist-sized rock to suck on and set him into the wheeled pen Angie called a crib.
Graj abandoned his clod of dirt and ran over to play with his little brother.
Angie dusted her hands off on the front of her pants and moved toward Sten, her wings fanning against her back. Her cheeks were pink, and he smoothed his fingertips over them, hoping any residual sunscreen might transfer to her skin. “You have tours scheduled today?”
The garden attracted so much notice, Angie had begun scheduling regular times for visitors to show up, otherwise she was running outside to show people around at all hours of the day and sometimes night. She gave him a wicked grin. “Not a single one. Your mother’s coming by to take the kids until tomorrow night.”
“Ah, you have plans, do you?” He wrapped both arms around her middle and pulled her close. “Do they involve me?”
“All my plans include you, my love.” She lifted her face and grazed his chin with a playful bite. He shivered. He loved it when she did that. He lowered his mouth against hers and gave her a languid kiss, breathing in her Earthian essence, a perfume of plants and stone that was purely Angie.
She tightened her arms around his waist and kissed him back, her lips giving him promises of what would come later. When they let up, she glanced over her shoulder to check on Graj and William, then pulled away to reach for a shovel. “But until she gets here, I need your help.”
“Slave driver.” He grinned at her. “But I’m always happy to be a part of your garden.”
Her smile was enough to melt a stone man’s heart.
The End
Dear Reader,
Did you enjoy Sten and Angie's story? Not ready to leave the Khargal world? Then check out Etched in Stone by Abigail Myst. Or if you've finished the series, you can start a new one with dangerous alien pirates, strong women, and awesome world-building in Galactic Pirate Brides!
Start your adventure with Rescued by Qaiyaan, where a clever female ex-con is about to rock this hot alien captain's world. Keep reading for a Sneak Peek!
Until next time, keep your eye on the skies!
Tamsin
P.S. If you enjoyed reading this story, it would mean a lot to me if you would leave a quick review. Indie authors like myself rely on your word of mouth in this tough publishing world! Thank you!
Glossary
At-Ukris: aerial Duras animal. Looks like a cross between an eagle and an octopus roughly the size of a whale
Bansial: the Durassian word for sticky
Canikin: the Durassian word for lady parts
Dam: mother
Dassa: mating fluid
Duramna: stone form
Duras: Khargal home planet
Durassian: the Khargal language
Earthian: what Khargals call humans
Fa: the Durassian word for Mrs.
Grack: the Durassian expletive for fuck
Guurlk: Khargal liquor
Hondassa: Mate
Kher: Khargal term for siblings
Khargal: what gargoyles call themselves
Lar: the Durassian word for god
Macero: the Durassian expletive for hell
Maztek: Duras animal similar to an earth whale
Rose Syndicate: clandestine organization that is pursuing gargoyles and their technology
Sartek: a random predatory animal on Duras
Sigil: the device used for contacting the rescue beacon and teleporting to the rescue ship
Sire: father
Tanem: the Durassian word for temporary companion taken before a true mate
Want more sexy Khargals? Check out all the books in the series! You don't want to miss a single one!
https://nanceycummings.com/khargals-of-duras/
Sneak Peek of Rescued by Qaiyaan
“I recognize your ship, Captain Qaiyaan.” The voice coming over the ship’s comm deepened with menace. “You’re interfering with a legal salvage operation.”
The two ships rotating helplessly outside Qaiyaan’s port screen told a different story than the human on the comm was telling; an eyeful of stars peeked through the blackened hole piercing the Syndicorp passenger ship’s hull, while the second, unmarked vessel’s short-range lasers glowed from recent use. “Seems you ought to be a bit more generous,” Qaiyaan drawled. “What with needing our help and all. I’m gonna take first crack at the salvage, then we’ll get you your part. You can have whatever we leave behind.”
“I warn you, don’t touch that ship!” blustered the voice on the other end.
Normally Qaiyaan’d wish the other pirate captain well and move on. Not today. His crew hadn’t had a profitable job in half a Denaidan year. This opportunity was too good to pass up. Besides, anyone who blew a hole in an unarmed passenger transport—Syndicorp or otherwise—left a sour taste in Qaiyaan’s mouth. “I could simply wait here. My first mate estimated in half a day we’ll have two ships in need of salvage. This is an awful deep part of space to find yourselves without a spare flux modulator.”
“You fucking son-of-a-rakwiji-whore bastard! I have powerful friends, and I can make sure you never find safe harbor in this sector again!”
Qaiyaan crossed his arms and glared at the comm. “I’m the only friend you have in the galaxy at this moment, so I suggest you be polite.”
Noatak, Qaiyaan’s first mate, grinned at him from the navigator’s seat, the copper sheen of his skin reflecting the multi-colored light from the control panels. The small cockpit, designed for humans, was barely big enough for the two Denaidan males to breathe at the same time. “Want me to take us in for soft docking?”
Qaiyaan watched the human pirate ship complete another slow, helpless turn in the port monitor. “Take us in, but keep an eye out for anything suspicious. Could be a Syndicorp trap.”
“Pretty elaborate for a setup.” Noatak shook his head, the metal beads decorating his long hair and beard clicking softly.
“Chances of blowing both in-line flux modulators at once and not having a spare? Either he’s stupid, or it’s a setup.”
“I say he’s stupid.” Noatak adjusted the controls to nose the Hardship toward the passenger wreckage.
Qaiyaan rose from the captain’s chair. Shit happened, especially to ships running less-than-legal activities. He ought to know, having just forked out the proceeds from their latest heist to retrofit a new hull onto the Hardship’s battle-damaged frame. The black market repairman’d all but asked Qaiyaan to bend over and spread his cheeks. Rotten, cheating bastard.
Turning to the door, he paused and looked over his shoulder at Noatak. “Just be careful. Even if it’s not a trap, Syndicorp’ll be looking for their missing ship, and I don’t want to be caught with our dicks out.”
After sealing the control room door, he slid down the ladder to the cargo bay, booted feet clanging against the catwalk grating as he landed. “Mekoryuk! Tovik! All hands on deck!”
Mekoryuk poked his clean-shaven face out of the med bay. He was the only crew member who chose not to wear the customary full beard the Denaida prided themselves on, citing a doctor’s need for cleanliness or some such anaq. "What is it?"
“Salvage mission. Assume zero atmo. No time for suits. Syndicorp could be riding our ass any minute. Where’s Tovik?”
“Where e
lse?” Mek tilted his head toward the end of the hall.
Qaiyaan left the doctor and strode to where the hatch to the engine room stood open. As captain, he could appreciate the well-oiled hum of a ship’s engines, but Tovik was a bit too much in love with moving parts. Squatting next to the hole, Qaiyaan yelled, “Tovik! On deck ready for void! And bring a spare in-line flux modulator! Now!”
Knowing his crewmen would comply without further prodding, he headed for the airlock. Through the portal, he watched Noatak guide the magnetic grappler into place. The captain of the human ship was probably apoplectic, watching his cash cow get raped by another ship. Tough luck. Qaiyaan’d be sure to leave the replacement flux modulator within reach, but not until the Hardship was ready to hightail it out of there.
The first mate finessed the grappler toward the other ship’s open airlock, his voice crackling over the internal comm to the cargo bay. “You sure you don’t want to take time to suit up?”
Mekoryuk arrived with a med-kit over his shoulder, and Qaiyaan shot him a grin as he answered. “No suits. These qumli need the practice.”